Lost and Found
by emeralddragonchild
Summary: John Winchester and Bill Harvelle embark on a hunt and neither return.


**-1989-**

Dean knows Bill and Ellen. The Roadhouse is a familiar place. Its safe. Dean doesn't have to worry about strangers that ask questions because here, no one asks questions. Here, everyone is a hunter, or connected to the business somehow. Dean doesn't trust them all, he knows better than that, but he can trust them more than he trusts most of the people he's in contact with.

Its late when Dad pulls up to the Roadhouse. Dean's asleep in the backseat, Sammy drooling on his shoulder, and its Dean that Dad nudges awake. Dean blinks, peers blearily out through the darkness to where there are lights shining through the windows, a beacon of invitation, and he stumbles out of the back and towards the building, Dad following behind him with Sammy.

Ellen looks up when they enter, all of them automatically lifting their feet high as they step inside, careful not to disturb the salt lines. She frowns a little, as she always does, when she sees them, but the lines in her face soften as Dean runs up to her.

"Miss. Ellen!" He climbs up onto one of the bar stools, grinning, "Dad says we're staying here for a few days."

Ellen's eyes narrow over Dean's head for a second before she smiles and nods, "That's right, little man. Its late, though. Why don't you take Sammy upstairs to bed? There's a few spare rooms left, just pick one."

Dean looks over at Dad, who nods, and then Dean jumps down and holds out his arms. Dad carefully transfers Sam's sleeping body into Dean's arms (Sammy's heavy, dead weight that makes Dean's arms shake and ache but Dean's done this a million times before and he can endure the weight, endure _anything_, for Sammy) and Dean carefully heads up the stairs, making sure not to jostle Sammy too much or bump his head on the side of the wall.

The first few rooms are taken. Its easy to tell which ones are from the dream-catchers that hang from the doorknobs. Empty knobs lead to free rooms and Dean nudges one open and lays Sammy down on the bed inside.

The rooms are always single beds. Most hunters travel alone, they don't have families like Dad does. Here at the Roadhouse, its safe enough that Dean and Sam get a room to themselves and Dad takes another down the hall.

Dean takes the dream-catcher from the nightstand and hangs it on the door before shutting it and digging the salt from underneath the bed. There's a constant line of it at the windows, but Dean packs it a little thicker, just in case, and then makes a line along the door and in front of the vents, just to be sure. Dad taught him to be careful, always careful, especially when its just him and Sammy.

Finally, Dean strips Sammy down to his undies and shreds his own clothes before climbing into bed and covering them both up. Sammy snuffles and cuddles close and Dean lets him, humming Metallica until Sammy settles back down and then he follows his brother into dreamworld.

In the morning, Sammy wakes up before Dean. He usually does, but Sammy can entertain himself and he stays in the room, reading one of the books he found, until Dean wakes up. After that, they dress and race one another downstairs, each hoping Ellen's making pancakes for breakfast.

She's not, but sausage and eggs is just as good, and they both tuck in with relish. Dean doesn't notice, at first, that Dad's not there until he's halfway through his meal. When it does sink in, Dean goes immediately still. Dad hadn't said he'd be leaving.

"Where's Dad?"

"Talking to Bill upstairs." Ellen answers, promptly. Her daughter, Jo, is screaming that she wants bacon instead of sausage and Ellen is ignoring her. Jo screams a lot, Dean's noticed, and he's glad he's got a brother instead of a sister. Girls are _loud_.

Dean frowns. "Does Dad have a job? Is that why we're here?"

Sammy looks up, frowning, and Dean remembers that Sammy isn't supposed to know about these kinds of things. Ellen drops three more sausages on Sammy's plate, effectively distracting him. "Bill's been having a bit of trouble with bears lately. He asked John for some help. They'll be going out to hunt them later today."

Dean frowns. Bears? That could mean _anything_. Of course, he'll get stuck staying back with Sammy, just like _always_.

Dean scowls at Sammy and kicks him, just because. Sammy immediately lets out a sharp cry and then his face screws up and he starts to cry. Dean immediately feels bad, but before he can even apologize, Ellen is pulling him up out of his chair and smacking his bottom with a wooden spoon.

"Dean Winchester, you don't treat your brother like that! Go up to your room. I'll watch Sammy for a few hours, until you can behave yourself."

Ears and cheeks flaming with embarrassment, Dean flees for the stairs before he can get hit with the spoon again.

He's not allowed out of his room for several hours, and by then, Dad's already gone off with Bill. Dean and Sammy are put to work, helping Ellen wash down tables and sweep the floor. She shows Dean how to make a few drinks back behind the bar and smacks at Sammy's hand when he keeps trying to steal peanuts from the bar.

Eventually, Sammy wonders off to play with Jo and Dean sits down to start cleaning guns. He makes his way through Dad's ammunition -or, at least what Dad had left behind -and Bill's, under Ellen's watchful eye, and when he finishes that he starts sharpening knives.

He waits and waits and Dad doesn't come back.

Ellen is starting to get worried. Dean can tell. She paces behind the bar and gets snappy with the customers, peers out the windows searching for headlights that don't appear. She puts Jo to bed and shortly after, Dean coaxes Sammy upstairs and reads him stories until he falls asleep.

Dean goes back stairs, where Ellen's sitting at the bar pouring herself shots. She beckons him over and slides a glass his way. Dean knocks it back like he's seen Dad do and then makes a face. Its only Coke-A-Cola.

"You think I'd give a ten-year-old whiskey? Who do you think I am, boy?" Ellen sneers at him, but its playful and teasing and Dean's known Ellen long enough to know the difference.

He stays up drinking Coke until Ellen finally sends him to bed, a few hours past midnight and a few more until dawn. He sleeps fitfully, wakes up in the morning, and there's still no sign of Dad.

Sammy's noticed, by now. He keeps asking for Dad and Dean doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say. He tugs Sammy close, presses his face into Sammy's soft hair, and prays his dad comes back soon.

Two days later, two bodies are discovered six miles west of the Roadhouse.

Dad isn't ever coming home.

They salt and burn Bill's body, first. Its a private ceremony, Ellen crying so hard she can't stand and Jo clinging to Dean's hand, looking up at him like he has the answers, like he can bring her Daddy back but if Dean could do that, he'd bring his own back, too. Plenty of hunters show up to pay their respects and as soon as Ellen has herself together, they burn John Winchester, collect his ashes in an urn, and Ellen closes the Roadhouse for a few days to drive them to Kansas and dump his ashes over Dean's mom's grave.

Just like that, Dean's an orphan and the only family he has left is a six-year-old little boy, clinging to his side and crying into his shirt.

Ellen puts them up in a hotel, a nicer one than Dean is use to. Ellen shares one bed with Jo and Dean curls around Sammy's tiny body and cries silently into Sammy's soft, sweet-smelling hair. He snuffles and tears drip down his cheeks, he clings to Sammy's pajamas and squeezes his eyes shut.

A hand, heavy and gentle, lands on Dean's head just as he's falling asleep. Fingers stroke back his hair, smooths down over his back, and a soft voice whispers to him, "Sleep, Dean. It will be alright."

* * *

The first time Dean sees the man, he's practicing his knife throwing out behind the Roadhouse. He appears to Dean's left, suddenly, out of nowhere, and Dean automatically turns and lets his knife fly. The man brushes it aside as if it were a fly and Dean stumbles backwards, tripping over his feet and sprawling onto the ground, cold and damp from the rain the night before.

"Do not fear me," the man says. His voice is deep, serious, but he speaks with a gentle tenderness to his voice and Dean's fear leaves him as if carried away by the wind. "My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord and I come to you from a time in the future to guide you and your brother through your grief and pain."

Dean can distinctly remember his mother tucking him into bed at night, kissing his hair and telling him that angels were watching over him. Dean hasn't believed that in a long time, not since he watched the flames engulf his home and was left to accept the cold, hard truth that his mother had been taken from him.

"If you're an angel," Dean asks, a bit of snark to his voice, "Where are your wings?"

The man seems amused by Dean and when Dean blinks, a pair of great, shadowy wings are spreading across the ground behind the man. Dean gasps, jaw falling open. He really _is_an angel!

"I do not," the man -the _angel_- says, "have a halo to show you, unfortunately, so I am hopeful that the wings are enough."

Dean nods helplessly. They're rather convincing, the wings.

"Perhaps we should go inside. I must speak to Ellen Harvelle about many things."

"Okay." Dean says and leads the man inside.

Ellen greets them with suspicious eyes. She doesn't trust men in suits. They aren't the patrons she typically serves and Dean can tell she wants to greet him with a face-full of holy water, that she probably has a hand on her shotgun under the bar and is just barely holding herself in check.

"Ellen." Castiel says, "I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord, and I must speak with you."

Ellen's eyes narrow, the shotgun comes up, and her voice is steely when she speaks, "Dean, you take Jo and Sammy to the safe room. Now."

Dean scrambles to obey her, taking the stairs two at a time and yelling for Sammy as he goes.

Dean doesn't know what Castiel and Ellen talk about, but he knows that Castiel is taking them away. He's helping them put their things in the Impala, Dad's car, _Dean_'s car now, and that he will be taking care of them from now on.

"Where are we going?" Sammy asks, "Why can't we stay with Aunt Ellen? I don't even _know you_and Daddy says not to go anywhere with strangers."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growls, shoving Sammy from behind. "We've gotta go with him. Dad's _dead_."

Sammy immediately lets out a loud wail, "No! He's coming back! He's coming back!"

"He isn't!" Dean yells.

"Dean," Castiel's voice is calm, but commanding and Dean's jaw clamps shut. "Your brother is young yet. He does not understand. You should try and be patient with him, until he understands. Sam," Castiel turns his uncanny blue eyes upon Sam, who shrinks back behind Dean, "Your father has left this plane of existence to move on to the next one. He is Heaven with his Lord and his wife, Mary, your mother. You may be saddened for his loss, and you should mourn, but do not despair for he has found happiness once more."

Sammy blinks at Castiel, wide-eyed, and then turns to Dean with a frown. "He's weird."

"Yeah," Dean nods, "He kind of is."

"We should be on our way. I have not driven a vehicle such as this before. It will be an experience."

Dean looks at Castiel, to the Impala, and back, wearily. "You've never driven before?"

"No. I have not, before, found it necessary. If not for the sentimental value you and your brother place upon this piece of machinery, I would leave it behind."

Dean nods, slowly. "Right. Well, how about I drive?"

Castiel's eyes go wide and then he nods, "Alright. That is acceptable."

Dean really wasn't planning on getting pulled over twenty miles down the road. Also, Angels of the Lord? They _stink_at getting out of tickets. Or, dealing with police officers in any fashion.

They end up in New York City. Dean's never been to a city before, not really. They've passed through places like Kansas City and St. Louis, but they've never stopped aside from getting gas and a quick trip through the drive-through. He's a bit nervous, doesn't really like the hustle and bustle. There's too many people and too much noise.

Castiel smiles at him sadly and lays a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I know that you do not approve of cities, but we will be safest here." He tilts his head up, eyes sweeping the sky. Dean wonders if he's talking to God.

After a moment, Castiel looks back down at Dean. "I will give you and Sam a new life, Dean Winchester. I will prepare you for what is to come, I will guide you along the way, and I will ensure that you and your brother are not forced into the roles that Heaven and Hell wish you to fulfill."

Dean doesn't know what Castiel is talking about, not really, but he smiles anyway and follows Castiel up and into the apartment, their new home, their new _life_, with his fingers enclosed around Sammy's tiny hand


End file.
